Garlic
by KarotsaMused
Summary: A simple meal together, that's all it was. (mild 39)


A/N: Disclaimer: Saiyuki isn't mine!  
  
Well, here it is. The Garlic scene. I shirked on it in "Eights and Aces" because I'm lazy, but now that I've had a little time (and a major craving for some 39 sweetness) I banged this baby out. Thank you, gallatica, for kicking me and making me realize just how much I actually wanted to write this ^.^  
  
If you've not read "Eights and Aces" that's perfectly okay. Just realize Sanzo is a rich brat and Goku's his butler, and that's about all you need to know to understand this. A lot of the rest of it is self-explanatory.  
  
Warnings: Shounen-ai, AU-ness, tooth-rotting sweetness (Karot couldn't help herself)  
  
Enjoy this little "deleted scene" from the E&A'verse.  
  
***  
  
"Come in."  
  
Only one person ever knocked on his door any more. That one person had grown in dexterity over so many meals, now not even spilling a single drop of water from the handsome glass on the tray he carried. He maneuvers the door open, closes it with his foot, and sets the tray down on the empty desk. There are two glasses of water, each filled exactly three-quarters of the way up, and two forks. The plate on the tray is heaped with enough food to feed at least two average people.  
  
"The cooks, they say it's obvious I'm eating some of this too," Goku explains, smiling sheepishly. "So they made more of it."  
  
'It' is a sumptuous dish of seafood, mussels and scallops and shrimp, swimming in sauce flavored with tomatoes, scallions, and garlic. Two pieces of garlic bread garnish the plate, and the smell of it permeates the air, turning the coolness into warmth. The heady garlic scent seeps immediately into Goku's clothes and skin, heating the air around him.   
  
"What an assumption," Sanzo murmurs in response, sitting cross-legged on his bed. He closes the novel in his lap and glances up. The light from his bedside lamp catches in his reading glasses, hiding his eyes. He pulls them off, folding them with care and setting them on the book on his bed, but does not move further. The window is open, and his cheeks are flushed.  
  
"You were smoking just now," Goku remarks with the inklings of a frown. "You don't have to hide it from me."  
  
Sanzo glares at the boy. "You nag me about it, and I'm not going to stop." He crosses his arms and wraps his hands about his shoulders. He is cold by the window but he will not shiver, even if he is clad in only his school uniform sans jacket. Goku crosses the room, garlic-warm, and closes the window without a word.   
  
"Okay. Hey, this stuff smells really good. Let me bring it over." Without waiting for a response, Goku goes to the tray and presents it to Sanzo, laying it on the bed between them. Goku takes a seat at the foot of the bed, twirling one of the forks in his hand. He doesn't wait for permission, but spears a scallop and pops it into his mouth. Golden eyes light up. "Wow!"  
  
Sanzo watches him as he eats, growing more enthusiastic with every bite. Goku raves about the meal, not noticing that Sanzo has yet to touch a bite of it. When he does finally try some, it is with his head turned away in a moment when Goku's eyes are closed. The sauce is spicy and warm, rosy from the seasonings in it. It is the kind of meal that warms from the inside, and he can't help but risk another bite.  
  
Goku smiles, having cleared most of the plate, and starts mopping up the sauce with a slice of garlic bread. Around a mouthful, he asks, "Are you sick of me following you around? 'Cause you know, it's just that I'm supposed to."  
  
Sanzo stares at Goku, wondering what the kid could be trying to pull. "I don't blame you."  
  
"So you do mind?" Goku put down the slice of bread and gazed upon Sanzo, hurt creeping into his eyes.  
  
Sanzo raises a delicate eyebrow, leaning his chin on his hand. "Are you really that dense?"  
  
Goku frowns for a second, but then his features contort beautifully around a wide smile. Comforted by the attack on his intelligence, he resumes eating until both slices of bread are gone. He drains his water glass and sets it back down on the tray. The echo of the impact is startlingly loud against the sudden silence.  
  
Sanzo reaches out to grab the tray at the same instant Goku's hands close around the handles. His palms come into contact with Goku's warm skin and quickly pull back. Goku puts the tray on the floor and stares at Sanzo. "Your hands are cold."  
  
"You could just be overheated," Sanzo responds, refusing to find any form of defect in even his body temperature.   
  
"I could." Goku pauses for a minute, blushing slightly. "It is kinda warm in here."  
  
"You closed the window."  
  
Goku glares at Sanzo. "You were shivering! And you're still cold." He grabs Sanzo's hands for emphasis. "I mean, these are like ice!"  
  
There falls between them a heavy, heady silence, as Sanzo's palms rest by the graces of gravity on Goku's. They are dark, the contrast made obvious by lily skin pressed against them, and the fingers are stubby and thick with muscle. It is also apparent that Goku bites his nails and has gnawed a cuticle or two. But when Sanzo sees this, he realizes he is staring too hard and pulls his hands back. They -are- cold.   
  
"Why do you care?" Sanzo asks softly, just to speak, to regain some ground.  
  
"Does it matter?"  
  
"No." The answer comes very quickly.  
  
"Okay." Goku rubs the back of his head. "You sure you don't want me to get you a sweater or something?"  
  
Above all else, he hates being doted upon. Treated like porcelain because his beauty is comparable. Told he is anorexic, suicidal, flawed. Told he is perfect. The weight of unwanted, forceful love is heavy on his heart, a burden he shakes away with near-violent tenacity. And yet...he sort of -does- want a sweater. A big, warm, worn-out sweater. The sort that leaves lint on your clothes when you pull it off over your head. The sort of sweater that's stretched beyond recognition but is still more wonderful than any other article of clothing you own. A -loved- sweater.  
  
Goku watches him intently, hot and caring and smelling of garlic. "Sanzo?"  
  
"No." The answer comes very quickly, almost faster than the last time.   
  
"Okay. Don't say I never offered." He gets up and bends double, picking up the tray with one swift movement and heads for the door. However, when he gets to the closed door his prior dexterity flees, and one fork falls to the carpet. It bleeds tomato sauce into the white fibers. Goku sets the tray down and grabs a napkin to blot it up.  
  
"Aw, Sanzo, sorry!"  
  
"Clumsy." Sanzo watches as he works to get the stain out before it sets. He wonders at the action, because he knows there will be just another person in his room the next morning to clean up. Someone who's -paid- to get out stains. "Let it be."  
  
"No, I've almost got it out! It's gonna be fine." Goku dips the napkin in the water glass Sanzo left half full, returning to blotting. He is on his hands and knees on the floor, working so meticulously at a blob of tomato sauce; the image is nearly laughable. Sanzo finds he has lost all patience with the idiocy of his surrogate shadow.  
  
He gets off his bed and grabs Goku's shoulder, giving it a little shake. "Let it be, dammit." Contrary to the desired response, Goku puts one of his hands over Sanzo's and continues blotting with the other. Before Sanzo's fingers can tighten in surprise, Goku puts the napkin on the tray and smiles.  
  
"See? Told you I could get it out." He gets to his feet and lets go of Sanzo's hand.  
  
Sanzo raises an eyebrow. "Idiot. Why the hell did you do that?"  
  
Goku shrugs. "Didn't want to mess up your room." Seven simple words. And a look that has been upon Sanzo many times that evening, many times since they'd been shoved in together by his aunt. I don't care if you don't care why, but you matter just this much.  
  
There are two incredible, mind-blowing moments that occur in the space of a heartbeat. There is the understanding, the click, the oh. And, as the urge for reciprocation overpowers, there comes the reciprocal...oh... Goku's jaw drops in surprise, and as his mouth opens to Sanzo there escapes the heady sweetness of garlic.  
  
Lily-white hands tangle in coarse, dark hair. They tighten among the strands so Goku hisses, the skin over his throat vibrating against Sanzo's arm. The blonde pulls back to breathe, and the bruised mouth below him smiles softly.   
  
"You're warm." 


End file.
